


softly, sweetly

by Saraste



Series: A Cottage on the Cliffs [5]
Category: A Softer World
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Making Love, sansaery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9723548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: Sansa and Margaery make music together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written fOr the prompt 'music'.

Most nights, Margaery has Sansa under her, or Sansa has Margaery under her, and they make up for lost time. The War had kept them apart, there had been no big house parties and sneaking from one bed to the next, illicit liaisons in the dead of night, daring dalliances when they had been enabled, no sweet music of sighs and moans to be made. 

 

Margaery likes to kiss Sansa all over her pale naked body, cover her neck in love-bites, mark and possess Sansa for her own. Sansa is no less possessive in wanting to show to whom Margaery belongs.

 

Their moans are music enough, sighs a chorus to their love-making, gasps a sonnet. 

 

Margaery kisses Sansa breathless, now, her body over hers, pressing just so, giving Sansa something to move against to chase her pleasure. She bites her lower lip between her teeth when they come up for air, sharing Sansa’s breath. 

 

Sansa, wrapped around and under Margaery, presses against Margaery’s thigh, as Margaery rides her own, so slick and perfect against her as they rock together. It's enough, a slow burn, a sweetly building release. Their mouths on each other would be nice and wet and quick, but like this their hands can roam, they can kiss lips to lips, drive each other closer to completion, only to start all over, when they catch their lost breaths.

 

The sea whispers in through the open window as they rise and fall together, whisper their endearments, letting wave upon wave of passion wash over them as the waves beyond crash to the cliffs.

 

‘I love how you sound when I make love to you’ Margaery says, after, head pillowed on Sansa’s bosom, hands entwined in her fiery hair, ‘how you whimper my name, in the throes of passion’.

 

Sansa sighs, feeling overwhelmingly happy. ‘You could push me over by just telling me what you were about to do without even doing it,’ she confesses, speaking softly.

 

Margaery pushes her over, kisses her deeply. ‘Why don't I, then?’

 

She proceeds to tell Sansa all the ways she would bring her pleasure and they make more sweet music together.  


End file.
